


To Know Your Love

by OnyourRadar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Promiscuity, Stream ofConciousness, angsty, happy ending o course, idk - Freeform, introspective, non linear, scared of commitment, sorta - Freeform, unedited, yall know the drill by now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar
Summary: Eliott thinks on Lucas.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	To Know Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starry_starry_dreamer_89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_starry_dreamer_89/gifts).



> For my dear, Stela. You are so lovely. I am glad that I met you. Truly.

It was that rank and sour taste of beer that wakes Eliott from the haze that settles over him. He thinks.

His Lucas. His boy. 

There, with oversized knit sweaters. A teacher of little children. Eliott never wanted kids. Afraid that he would never surmount to anything while in their presence. Like he would fuck up. 

But Lucas was damn near perfection. Different. 

Lucas, well...he liked knick-knacks and statuettes that he collected for the sole purpose of watching them sit on shelves to collect their own meaningful pile of dust. He liked thrift stores; clothing too big for his small frame. Cloth with holes that told the story of past owners. 

Lucas. He waits for his own story to be told through stains and rips then wishes for it to be worn by another. 

Lucas who, Eliott thought, could never be held down, unless it was by the right person. Eliott wants to be the right person. But cold fear licks at him and tells him that he isn’t, so he washes those feelings down with the burn of anything that will take away his sense. Erases it with the press of bodies close to him in a room full of people he didn’t know but they liked to sing his praises. 

Words sickly sweet. “ _Eliott, your band is amazing. The way you—_ ” Eliott wants it all to stop because the only truth he believes is Lucas smiling at him and biting his lips. 

“ _Not really my sound, but your voice is so soothing. And the way your fingers move on that guitar. Impressive Demaury_.” 

Not really his sound, but is Eliott his type? But Lucas looks up through his lashes and Eliott is reminded of everything that makes Lucas a world of his own. Because Lucas loves rain, like a child. Likes when it rains but loves most, the mud in wide open fields. He runs, trips, and then rolls and in the throws of excitement he finger paints his face then Eliott’s and with the wetness of the day clinging to his lashes, Lucas tells Eliott, 

_“I live for these memories.”_

Eliott thinks about how at night, Lucas sits with a book open on his lap and the light of the moon to one side of his shoulders, quietly reading the illuminated words. He likes this more than the artificial light of the lamp that sits at his bedside. 

He never turns it on.

Like how Lucas never turns on the television on the radio; opting to listen to the soothing sounds of instrumentals. He disconnected himself from the world. And when it suits him, Lucas goes on long walks. For the silence. 

“ _But I like it when you’re there with me Eliott. Wouldn’t it be nice if this was something that could happen all the time.”_

Who was it, that couldn’t be held down. The one unwilling to hold on to the other. 

Eliott wonders. Because wasn’t it Lucas who moved close then moved back and wasn’t it Eliott who was too scared to hold on, fingers curled, loosely, like he was already gearing up to let go. Let go the way Lucas let’s go because he is soft and understanding, he is impish in his looks and the way he hugs and holds and kisses. But when he angers, he shouts and draws blood. He cries and wears his heart on his sleeves— arms extended and reaching for Eliott but he swipes instead and broken heads lay immobile on the floor. 

Scattered.

Like Eliott’s thoughts and feelings for this boy who waltzed into his life like a storm. Who, sat in the back at a table by himself sipping at a gin and tonic. 

Alone. 

Among the mix of drunk men and women clawing their way towards the stage, like the lick of fame could touch them and things might change the closer they get. 

They could never get close enough.

Not close like how Lucas gets, When the tears dry and the heat settles but the anger remains, Lucas takes time to clean . He sweeps with eyes averted from Eliott’s bent form, picking up glass shards of Eliott's favorite picture frame. 

Eliott isn't sure when a fling shifts into something so mind numbingly important. When the thought of, I want to sleep with him turned into something more. Into— _I can't live without you_. And one night turns into two nights, then three. It becomes Eliott catching giggles against his lips and pulling moans as he lays love on a lithe and willing body. 

It is falling asleep on separate sides of the bed angry, but when tension becomes too much Lucas flips and curls into the small of Eliott's back a whispered " _I'm sorry"_ between them. 

Eliott can't shake memories of stumbling through the dark, the bumping into walls as Lucas drags him to get cleaned up. When Lucas regrets he never allows himself to forget. 

But there are times when Eliott forgets that he can't simply lay claim to that beautiful man who is more free spirit than his. 

Maybe the truth that hits Eliott straight on is the fact that Lucas doesn't crawl to him simply because they've slept together. Maybe it is fear that causes Eliott to stop pursuing. And he simply pushes thoughts of the other away. He places distance. Because Lucas makes Eliott feel like someone else. 

That scares him more than anything. Having fought so hard to build himself up from nothing. How could he loose himself to love. It is enough to the point that he accepts the touches of others, the lips on his neck, tells anyone, " _yes I'll sleep with you_ " at the risk of drowning himself so he doesn't feel. He puts up that distance between them. Stops reaching out because he doesn't know how to figure out right and wrong in his head. But something in him aches at the notion that there could have been something between Lucas and him. 

That there still might be. 

It takes seeing Lucas stand in front of him, wearing Eliott's oversized sweater that he stole on their third night together. A smile on his lips and sadness in his blue eyes—watching intently at the girl who was trying but failing at whispering sweet nothings into Eliott's ear. 

But all he hears is Lucas asking,

"Eliott, am I not yours? "

And something in him shudders when Lucas curls an arm around his waist and looks away, keeping that smile on his face as he takes in the smell of alcohol, the dim lighting casting shadows on the angles of his face. 

Lucas ignores the girl who has seemingly taken up his place. 

"That's okay." Lucas says before turning away. Even when it is not.

He walks loosely like he knows his destination but Eliott thinks maybe it's the steps of an aimless person. Someone who has lost direction. 

He wants to say yes. _You're still my boy._ He pushes the faceless person off him. Thinks maybe he should offer an apology. But he has zeroed in on the back that is steadily getting smaller, lost among the crowd. He bites back the fear as he gives chase. Holds his breath because what if he is too late?

"Lucas, wait!"

And out in the cover of the night, underneath the golden light of a street lamp, Lucas turns in place and he looks like he wants to cry. But his eyes are dry. 

Eliott knows there are so many things he could say. But he's a little lost in hisnown grieving that he thinks it wouldn't be enough. 

He steps close and with Lucas' face clasped in his hands, Eliott captures willing lips in a broken little kiss. He wants to say,

_I love you_. 

But he doesn't know how to. Because the feeling is so consuming, it has eaten up his words. 

But Lucas stands taller on his tip toes. Nuzzles their noses together. 

"I'm your boy?"

"You are."

"Only me." 

And Eliott feels the weight of it shed from his shoulders. He finds it more than easy to say,

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> Idk. Leave thoughts?


End file.
